Prada problems
by LadyInfierno
Summary: The man looked at him for a brief moment like he didn't understand the question, though maybe it was just because the rude way it was asked, and after a few seconds he laughed. As if the one who was wearing that ridiculous tie over that ridiculous shirt and a suit that didn't even match was him.


This was written for **Sarumomon**, for the Prumano Secret Santa. I'm awfully late and very sorry, but I hope you like it. Have a nice Holiday!

Prompt was 'Family gathering', though maybe it's a bit sublte.

_Hetalia isn't mine and that's obvious._

* * *

**Prada Problems**

The constant pounding of the sound of the bass against his throat had him a bit sick already, and even though the sax that was over it was decent enough, the only thing Lovino really wanted to do that time at night was go right to bed and sleep for two years in a row. He had been deciding between bearing a bit more of full boredom and tiredness over his shoulders, or leaving and be happy until the next invitation of that kind.

Although of how tempting that second option seemed, and the fact that probably nobody would try to stop him, there was this annoying little voice in his head who told him he would never be forgiven if he left. Or at least, that was what the endless complains and we-don't-do-stuff-together-anymore's from his brother would say. The ungrateful brat, he wasn't even there with him right now.

At some point in the evening Feliciano had had disappeared from sight, and because they had already finished with greetings and introductions with members of other companies, he had been doomed to sit in a corner of that big hall full of people he didn't know and, being honest, he didn't look forward to.

He didn't even fully know what the point behind that party was, and although he vaguely remembered his brother talking nonsense about that all week, it was a well acquired ability that words came in from one ear, and exited from the other. The only thing he was sure about was that the reunion had been organized by Ludwig, his brother's _best friend_, and the reminiscence of the tall, blonde, _German_ guy wasn't very pleasant.

Besides, thinking of him planning a party was something so bizarre he rather not doing it.

"Hey, I thought you were with my— oh…"

The shiver that threatened with sneak up his back was interrupted by that rough voice and its nonsense phrase. When he looked up, the man in front of him made even less sense.

His hair was _white_ and his eyes were _red_, which, being honest, made him look quite handsome. Lovino would had been a bit more aware of that if it weren't for the attire of said man. The shirt was _chicken_ yellow, the tie was a shade above; black trousers, white coat and -for god's sake- red sneakers.

The guy was saying something else, laughing at his own words and looking just a bit uncomfortable with his gaze, but it was understandable. Lovino Vargas, the epitome of Italian fashion, dressed accordingly to the occasion with his black _Prada_ suit, vest over his mustard coloured shirt, black tie with a subtle but well elaborate golden design and spotless black shoes, felt horribly and sharply _disgusted._

"What the _fuck_ are you wearing?"

And he didn't bother to hide it.

The man looked at him for a brief moment like he didn't understand the question, though maybe it was just because the rude way it was asked, and after a few seconds he laughed. _He laughed._ As if the one who was wearing that ridiculous tie over that ridiculous shirt and a suit that _didn't even match_ was him.

Without another word, the white-haired-horribly-dressed man got a seat beside him.

* * *

"Tell me again, why can't I choose my own clothes?"

That voice pulled him back in the present, and even when under any other circumstance he would have already snapped all their reasons at him, he couldn't fight against the amused and by some point loving smile that settled on his lips. He could hear the snicker from his brother by his side, and the defeated sigh from the tall, blonde, _German_ man, seated a little far from them.

"Because if we want you to look at least half decent for the end year's party, you can't go near any yellow tie"

Lovino wouldn't let that disaster of the albino to happen again, and for that reason the four of them were there, shopping with the only purpose of getting nice clothes for _Gilbert. _First, he had thought of going just the two of them to accomplish the mission, but after thinking twice, he decided that if he needed a second judgment, definitely he had to take his brother with him. Feliciano ended up inviting Ludwig over, _obviously,_ and he happened to discover that the younger of the Beilschmidt siblings did know how to dress properly. It seemed, the horrible inclination to wear chicken printed shirts of Gilbert wasn't a family thing.

Taking the red shirt his brother handed him, with the black trousers he had chosen himself after a brief contemplation, he approached the tall, handsome and German albino man, who was _pouting._

"Come on, Lovi, you _love_ my yellow ties"

If he was fair enough, he _did_ love Gilbert's yellow ties. The way it was so easy to take them and pull with enough strength for their lips to touch each other's, or how they were the perfect substitute of handcuffs, when both of them were in the mood. His grin had something of what he was thinking, for sure, because the red gaze over him was shining in a way he easily recognized.

"It doesn't mean they're not awful" And before any retort left the other's lips, he shoved the clothes to his chest without any consideration. "Now go change"

A soft groan, and the taller man turned to go inside one of the dressers.

"Don't you like those, Gil?" Feliciano asked loudly in a chirpy tone, looking here and there between shirts and ties. They heard a grumble from inside the dresser, followed by another low complains that sounded like 'I look good in everything, anyway'. The younger Italian just laughed softly. "Look brother! This one would look good on you, and you two would match!"

"Let me see"

While he checked on the red vest with black pattern across one side, he remembered when they were younger, when their clothes weren't Prada nor Gucci, but they had a lot of fun going out together and picking out nice outfits. That was one thing he would never get bored to do with Feliciano.

It seemed he had been lost in his thoughts again, because Gilbert had already came out of the room, and his own brother was offering him a simple black tie, then sighing at the 'why can't I wear a yellow one?' and tying it himself around the other's neck.

He laughed softly, shaking his head at the thought of Gilbert and his awful fashion sense, how that first time he saw him he just wanted to punch him right in the face for the absurd attire he was wearing. It ended up being that Gilbert was a nice guy, and their humour sense was really similar, so they soon fell into criticizing each other's taste in everything.

It lead to calls, movie nights, dinner around the city, and now there they were, being a big happy family, even though for everyone else they were _just_ boyfriends.

"So? How do I look?"

Lovino let his gaze wander over the sight right in front of him. Maybe he could agree on that, just for himself; Gilbert did look good in everything.

* * *

_That's it. _

Please feel free to remind me of any typos or incorrect grammar, writing in English is hell for me. Again, hope you enjoyed your gift, and sorry for the delay.

_Maria._


End file.
